Her voice grew into a shriek; for Roger lay panting again, with eyes and mouth widely opened, and she thought he would die while still angry with her. "Oh, Roger Westropp, I'll go to Miss Nuna; I'll do everything you bid me if you only say, 'Bless you, Patience Coppock,' and shake hands."

It had come to the ex-milliner that she was undergoing a realization of one of the scenes in her favourite romances, and this light taught her that the best antidote to a curse was a blessing from the lips which had threatened it.

"Bless you, Patience Coppock; but you're mortal wrong if you look for profit from blessin' o' mine-you may go now;" his fingers twitched so restlessly, that she was forced to loosen the grasp she had laid on them. His eyes moved towards the door; she saw how impatient he was she should go.

Good-bye," she said, "it shan't be my fault if Mrs. Whitmore doesn't come to you at once."

CHAPTER XLIX.

MISS COPPOCK'S WARNING.

WHEN Nuna was fairly alone, she burst into passionate weeping.

66 Oh, what have I done, what have I done? driven him away by my jealousy, and he'll never come back!"

She started up and ran to the door, but it was too late: the hall-door banged loudly; Paul was gone.

He had come home a day sooner than she expected, and instead of springing forward to welcome him, she had sat like a stone, and then, without waiting for any explanation about the picture, had reproached him with deceit.

"Whatever a husband does, a wife is bound to honour him and love him." Poor Nuna's tears dropped like scalding rain over the slender hands pressed against her throbbing bosom.

"And

what has Paul done? He could not do anything wrong, he is an artist, and he must admire beauty; don't I worship beauty in women, and how can he help it? Oh, my darling! my darling! come back to me."

This penitent mood lasted some time, but Nuna wanted stronger help than mere feeling, against herself. Jealousy in an ardent nature is like devouring flame; you may slake it and it seems extinguished, but it lies smouldering, ready to leap up in active life at the slightest arousing.

She had kept steadily away from the picture, but afternoon came, and still Paul had not returned. She went up to it desperately and looked at it.

Her dinner had been sent away untasted, she looked haggard and worn, and she knew it.

"What can he feel when he sees us side by side?" she said. She went abruptly and fetched a hand mirror from her bedroom, and then she placed herself before the picture, and forced herself to compare every feature with Patty's.

There was a passionate glow in her eyes at first, but as she persisted in her painful work her cheeks grew pale, and the firmly compressed lips parted into a listless look of despondency.

Her jealousy had been maddening, but it took a new despairing element as she noted with unsparing eyes the total want of any resemblance between herself and the beautiful face in the picture. It would have been easier to bear Paul's admiration for another, if it had been attracted by charms which in any way reflected her own; but between Nuna and Patty there was the wide difference which time can never bridge over. Painting could not do any more justice to Patty than it can do justice to any beautiful woman; but it could represent, in a measure, all the loveliness she possessed. Nuna's beauty was so entirely dependent on expression, on the ever-varying emotions which seem to lay the soul bare beneath the pure transparent skin, that it was no wonder she was unconscious of any power to charm; no wonder either that her heart sank like lead as she stood comparing her own face with Patty's. The beautiful picture smiled at her, not cruelly, Nuna thought, but in pity at her weakness.

She put the glass down on the table, and struggled hard against the disorder which she felt was mastering her soul. She was humbled at her own vanity, it was new to Nuna to care about her looks. "How silly I have grown! he thought, sadly; "was Elizabeth right when she said I could never guide myself?" She made another effort at steadiness. Already she knew, even with her imperfect self-knowledge, that agitation and disquiet were as open doors to the subtle temptation which had destroyed her peace. If she would not be conquered by her jealousy, she must be self-restrained.

66

Why don't I believe all Paul says ? I do believe entirely his view of it. If I could only not think that horrid woman tries to make him like her better than he likes me !" and then she strove to think that if she were really the trusting wife she called herself, she should be sure of her husband's love.

But this last argument was an unhappy one; the poor devoted heart might blame itself, but nature and truth would be heard; and they both spoke out from the very depths of her love.

"There's no use in being miserable." She pushed her hair out of her eyes, and almost a look of her girlish archness came back. "Paul may not love me as I love him. I'm not worth it, most likely, but I am his wife, and he's much too good and too honourable to give way to liking Patty. I must see her." She shrank as she spoke, but she nerved herself against her reluctance. haps I have been wronging her, perhaps she loves her own husband very much, and I have been making myself miserable for nothing at all."

"Per

The afternoon was changing into evening when at last she heard footsteps on the stairs; but an instant's listening told Nuna this was not Paul's rapid tread. The servant announced Miss Coppock, but Nuna was so startled by the change in her looks that she hardly recognized her old dressmaker.

Miss Coppock came in voluble and high-voiced, a mixture of servility and patronage: surroundings were much in

her estimation, and to find her former employer in an old-fashioned part of London, with not even a regular drawing-room to receive her in, was to Patience a decided confession of inferiority. She had driven to St. John Street in a cab this afternoon, but she was going home to one of the best houses in Park Lane, and she drove out daily in Mrs. Downes's fashionable carriage, yet in the midst of these self-complacent sugges tions, every now and then, something in Nuna's refined face, in the gentle courtesy of her words and her manner, sent the ex-dressmaker back to her own rank of life, and made her feel like an impostor.

"You are surprised to see me, Mrs. Whitmore, I dare say, but I have brought you a message from Roger Westropp."

She looked round her at this, and she saw Patty's picture.

Miss Coppock gave a little startMr. Whitmore must have told his wife, after all-but Nuna was questioning her about Roger's message, so she was forced to be patient.

"I suppose Roger has sent for his daughter," said Nuna; "she sees him sometimes, of course?"

And then Nuna blushed; it seemed to her that she was prying into Patty's arrangements.

"Not often." Patience laughed spitefully; it was a relief to have found some one to whom she could speak freely.

"She can't like Patty; it's not in a woman's nature," she said to herself. "Well, Mrs. Whitmore, you see Mrs. Downes has a position to maintain, and all that kind of thing takes time, you know; and going to court and fêtes and balls and operas is, of course, of far more consequence than going to see an old father, when we're ashamed of him. Dear me, yes, she don't even know he's ill:" here Miss Coppock laughed again.

But she had quite misunderstood her listener's silence; a flush of indignation rose in Mrs. Whitmore's face. Miss Coppock had told her she was Mrs. Downes's confidential friend, and Nuna was disgusted at her treachery.

Patience; the woman had been stung and goaded by Roger's taunts till she was ready to vent her resentment on the first victim she met with: she had felt sure of Nuna's sympathy, and the fresh rebuff made her spite overbear her prudence.

"I wouldn't really, Mrs. Whitmore;" she shook her head and gave Nuna a look full of compassion. "I dare say you didn't know it, but when Mrs. Downes was only Patty Westropp she never could say a civil word of you; and now, it stands to reason that she can't like you."

Nuna grew crimson; she stiffened into haughtiness.

"I really do not care to hear what Mrs. Downes thinks of me; but if I find her father very ill, I shall certainly write and tell her, Miss Coppock."

Here Patience met a look in those deep liquid eyes which almost made her rise from her seat; it carried her back to the time when she had stood, pins in hand, fitting on Miss Nuna's dresses.

She looked at her own silk skirts, and then at Nuna's simple muslin gown, and the contrast gave her fresh courage.

"Of course, Mrs. Whitmore, you must do as you think fit; but if I was in your position, knowing all that I do know, I would not interfere between Mrs. Downes and her father."

She waited here, but Nuna would not question her; she was anxious to get rid of her visitor, and she thought silence the surest way.

Miss Coppock sat some moments, but she meant to have her say out whether Nuna helped her or not.

"Good morning, Mrs. Whitmore." She rose to go away; but she would not see Nuna's outstretched hand; her anger had got beyond the bounds of decorum. 66 Well, Mrs. Whitmore, be warned or

not as you please; all I know is, if I had married a man who had been head-overears in love with Patty Westropp, I shouldn't like him to spend all his time with her as he does spend it now; and, above all, I'd take care not to vex her. Mrs. Downes don't spare anyone who stands in the way of her vanity,-I know that."

She rustled off; a twinge of conscience made her turn her head away. She did not want to see how Mrs. Whitmore had received her warning.

CHAPTER L.

NUNA'S PROMISE TO ROGER.

WHEN Paul came in at last, and told his wife not to sit up for him, as he was going to the theatre with friends, it seemed to Nuna as if she had heard the words before; as if this cold, estranged manner of her husband's were the reality of her life, and all the brighter, fonder ideas she had fancied or cherished, dreams.

And when next morning came and he sat opposite her at breakfast, hardly speaking a word but absorbed in his paper, she felt it was useless to struggle against fate: complaint and explanation would only alienate him altogether.

Her jealousy seemed dead; what right had she to be jealous? She had married Paul knowing he had loved Patty, and she had been so willing to believe his love for herself, that she had not paused to reflect on the rapidity with which he had transferred his affections. In the long hours of the last sleepless night she had had spare time to realize this thought, and to feel its truth.

"I gave my love too easily; I was won at once; I have made my own life," she said, in a quiet mood that was neither submission nor despair; 'and now I have got to live it." She did not do herself the justice of remembering how hard she had pleaded against the hurry of her marriage.

She had so shrunk from approaching the subject of Patty, that she had not told Paul of Miss Coppock's message; and he had gone out now, and would

not be home till evening. Nuna hesitated to go and see Roger unknown to her husband.

"But Miss Coppock seems to think he is dying; it is wicked to delay. Suppose he dies alone?"

She shrank a little at the idea of finding herself by Roger's death-bed; but, in her cottage visiting, she had met with death, and it did not terrify her so much.

She went; she found the squalid house at last, after about twenty inquiries, and gave a timid knock at the door. Even her unobservant eyes were shocked by the dirty, ruinous aspect of everything: moss had found a home in every crack of the stone steps; and the parlour window looked as if it had received the mud splashes of a twelvemonth.

The door opened slowly, and then she recognized Roger Westropp.

His stern face lightened over with a smile. "Will you please walk in, ma'am?" he said.

Nuna went on into the little room, but she had no eyes for the squalor around her. Roger's face had taken her back to Ashton; for the first time since her marriage she wished herself in her old life again.

She seated herself on the shabby, faded green sofa, but Roger remained standing. Nuna was still to him his young mistress; neither his wealth nor her poverty could work any change in their relative positions.

"It's very kind on you to come, ma'am." Nuna smiled up at him, looking so young and sweet and bright, that Roger felt all his old worship of her revived.

"I'm so glad to see you so much better, Roger; I was afraid I should find you very ill indeed,-Miss Coppock said you were."

Roger's face clouded over; he put both hands behind his back and stiffened into hardness.

"She said so, did she? and yet she's never came anear this morning to see if I wur dead, or livin'! I wur mortal ill yesterday, ma'am, but towards evenin' I took a turn, and this mornin' I'm better

still. I'm afeared I'll disappoint some folks a while longer as 'd be glad to feel there was a few feet of earth between they and their secrets."

"Oh! please don't say so, Roger." Nuna spoke in a shocked, distressed voice; almost as if she were crying.

"I'm only sayin' truth, but that there's not what I've got to say to you, ma'am. If you'd ha' come yesterday, maybe I'd ha'said more, but now- He fumbled in his waistcoat, pulled out a bit of folded paper, and then slowly opened it and flattened it on the mantelshelf, before he turned to put it in Nuna's hand.

As her eyes followed his movements, they fell on Patty's likeness still resting against the blurred looking-glass. All the colour faded from Nuna's face; her eyes lost their liquid dancing light; one instant, so it seemed to Roger Westropp, had robbed her of her beauty and her youth. But Nuna did not notice his earnest, attentive glance; her eyes remained fixed on the little portrait.

"Have you seen my daughter, Miss Nuna?" he said with a sharp, inquisitive look.

"No."

Why not?" he said bluntly; "I hear your good gentleman sees her most days." Nuna changed colour with startling rapidity; she felt his keen gaze on her face, and she had no strength to hide her agitation.

Roger was noting every change; the drooping head, the quivering lips, the varying colour; and silently he put these side by side with Miss Coppock's talk.

His wits were keen, but they were not inventive, and he stood some minutes before he could see his way to helping Nuna in her trouble.

"It's just as it were at Ashton," he said to himself; "Patty don't care a fig for the fellow herself, but she can't abide to spare him to another womanthe vain hussy!"

And yet, mingling with his pity for Nuna, came a sort of fatherly pride in Patty's beauty.

Nuna opened the paper.

"Messrs. Jones & Co.' I don't understand," she faltered.

"You've got to put that writin' by, ma'am, till so be as you hear as I'm taken; then if you goes with it to Chancery Lane, you'll get full informations at the office; but "-he stopped and looked at Nuna to impress her with the importance of his next words" don't you take no notice to my daughter about that paper, nor to Miss Patience, neither."

"I'm not likely to see either of them," said Nuna, proudly; and she got up to go away.

Roger looked at her, and he smiled in his own peculiar fashion.

"That bit of paper may be of use to you some day, ma'am, for all you don't seem to set no store by it now; I'm a-going now to ask you to do something for me."

"What is it?" Nuna smiled; she was vexed at her own ungraciousness. "I am very glad to do anything for you, Roger."

66

"Thank you, ma'am; it's to go to Park Lane, No. 7, and ask for Mrs. Downes. See her, if ye please don't you be put off with no Miss Coppocks, -you see Patty, and tell her to come and see me directly; if she don't come to me, then I goes to her."

Nuna stood trembling.

"I can't," she said; "your daughter Iwould think me an intruder. deed I can't."

No, in

"Listen here, ma'am." He touched Nuna's clasped hands with one bony finger. "You was always a good young lady to your father, and others besides; you're not a-goin' to refuse to send Patty to me when I'm sick and wantin' to speak with her? She's my own child, Miss Nuna. She ain't a lovin' child like you, ma'am, but she'll come if you says them words to her plain and straight -she'll come."

"Can't I write instead?" Nuna urged. Something in Roger's stern voice and his tall, gaunt height, made her feel like a child with him.

"No, ma'am, writin' won't do. You'll not refuse an old servant, Miss Nuna?" he said earnestly; "it's life and death, I may so say, for me to see Patty. I No. 143.-VOL. XXIV.

shan't rest easy till you give me your word as you'll go straight to Park Lane." While he spoke, a strange, wild plan had darted into Nuna's mind. Why should she not see Patty? She had wished it herself yesterday, and then had shrunk from asking Paul.

"Am I always to be a coward?" she said, and she nerved herself with the struggle only timid natures know, and yet which, once achieved, lifts them to even daring bravery.

"I'll go," she said, abruptly. "Must it be to-day?" His manner had altered; he saw that Nuna could only be compelled into his service by her belief in its importance to himself. "Unless Patty knows to-day, there's no use in telling of her. Thank you, ma'am, I'm obliged to you."

"Yes, to-day, ma'am."

He opened the door while Nuna stood looking at him; she had not yet realized that which she was about to do.

CHAPTER LI.

66

"

A GOSSIP AT THE BLADEBONE." THERE is a sensation well-known to persons of a nervous temperament; a something more or less akin to second sight. It is not presentiment; it is rather a consciousness of that which takes place respecting them in the mind of another, and it may exist in a mind entirely free from any leaning to mesmeric influence. When Nuna's thoughts were drawn so strongly to Ashton, she was on the lips and in the hearts of her friends there, and her coming among them was the subject of desire-even of written entreaty.

Mrs. Bright's round, rosy face, which no amount of straw-coloured bonnet trimming or white lace veil could pale, was full of excitement as she walked from the Parsonage gate to the "Bladebone."

If she had not spied out Mrs. Fagg on the doorstep, I incline to think that Will's mother would so far have forgotten the proprieties of life as to communicate her news to Bob the ostler,

Z